


The Jackal's Mercy

by Tygerrtygerr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fareeha's the underdog trying to make it to the top, MMA, except me, potential for angst, potential for smut, the fighting au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygerrtygerr/pseuds/Tygerrtygerr
Summary: Fareeha wants nothing more than to fight in the professional league, and an encounter with a certain blonde pro MMA fighter might just make her dreams a reality.





	The Jackal's Mercy

The shouts and cheers of the crowd was like a melody to Fareeha’s ears as she stepped onto the stage. She couldn't help but smirk at the distinct sound of her name heard amongst the noise. She reveled in this feeling the most. The feeling of all eyes on her. Dark brown eyes looked across the stage to where her opponent should be to find she hadn't arrived yet. Her hands rubbed together in anticipation.

 

Fareeha “The Jackal” Amari. She was amateur fighter working her way into the professional world of mixed martial arts, having already worked her way up into the spotlight within the last couple of months on a more minor. Her explosive fighting style most certainly caught the eyes of few, fans and enemies alike. Her strikes were fast and powerful and she worked extra hard to craft them in such a way. Fareeha considered her trainer to be one of the best, a well known name in the world of boxing; Gabriel Reyes. Back in the day he was known as “The Reaper” for just how deadly a fighter he was. Fareeha looked back behind her to where Gabriel stood, arms crossed and face passive. He gave her a nod and she nodded back before looking back across the stage.

 

The weigh ins were probably Fareeha’s least favorite part about the sport. Too many of her opponents use the moment as a time to flaunt and show off for the cameras, talking trash and making big claims. But anyone could talk big. Anyone could flex their muscles for the camera. At the end of the day it came down to what happens in the ring, and if there was anywhere she was going to show off at, it was going to be there. This weigh in was special, however, as her opponent was a true professional fighter, and one of the top fighters at that.

 

The roars of the crowd spiked up tenfold and Fareeha knew that was the signal of her opponent. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw blonde hair in the distance. Angela Ziegler, known moreso by her nickname Mercy, a name given to her not because she was kind but because she was powerful enough that an act of compassion from her was considered a gift. Most of her fights end quickly in the first round, but when she’s feeling merciless her opponents truly learn what suffering is. Word is she was studying to become a doctor but something about mixed martial arts called her in to fight, and she’s left a trail of bodies in her wake.

 

Fareeha swallowed the lump in her throat as the woman walked towards the stage surrounded by security and flanked by her trainer Jack Morrison. Fareeha knew him as Gabriel’s best friend turned rival. She doesn’t know the details but she just knows Gabriel doesn't like him one bit.

 

She turned her attention away from him and to her opponent, watching with as she walked up the stairs onto the stage. The once favorable noise from the crowd was now highly unfavorable as they screamed and chanted for Ziegler instead, shouts of “Mercy” sounding through the room. She tried to resist the urge to frown, but the smirk Mercy sent her way and the wink that accompanied it made her blood boil. As the blonde stepped up to the scale to be weighed Fareeha tried to remember her talk with Gabriel from the other night.

 

_“Now listen to me, Ree. I know you don’t like the weigh ins too much, but this one is crucial.”_

 

_Fareeha pauses in her punches, placing a hand on the punching bag to halt its swinging. “I’m not worried about Ziegler, Gabe.” And she wasn’t. She knew she was an impressive fighter but Fareeha knew she had way more strength than her opponent had._

 

_She flinches at the smack on the back of her head and sends a glare his way. “Well you should be. If Morrison is in her corner then there’s something to be feared, he only backs the best. You need to stand firmly and don’t fall for any of her mind games. Assert yourself as the alpha of that stage, you hear?”_

 

_“Alright, alright,” she waves him off._

 

She didn’t understand what Gabriel was so worried about. She did her own research on Mercy and for the most part she wasn’t impressed, certain she could end the whole match with one good hit. Mercy had nowhere near the physical strength that she had and Fareeha confirmed it once she took a good look at the woman’s body. She was very well toned, Fareeha noted, eyes roaming over every inch of her figure. Her legs were definitely more focused on than her arms and Fareeha made a mental note to herself to watch out for any potential kicks.

 

Her gaze roamed back up to find the blonde woman looking her way. Their eyes locked momentarily to which Angela smirked, having caught Fareeha scoping her out. Her face heated up in embarrassment and Fareeha averted her gaze instead to the screen where their weights were displayed. It was higher than normal meaning Mercy had put on some weight so she wouldn't be at too much of a disadvantage. Gabriel would probably have her bulk up some more last minute, just to further assure her weight advantage.

 

Both fighters met each other in the middle of the stage so the photographers could have their moment and get their pictures for the newspaper. She sighed as she stepped to the center and looked to the crowd, striking a pose or two just so she wouldn't be a spoilsport.

 

“Do you like what you saw, Amari?” Fareeha turned from the crowd to the woman across from her. Angela wasn’t looking or even facing her, instead showing her attention to the photographers in the crowd as she posed for them. Despite that she still felt the heat in her face from her comment. Mostly because a part of her did like what she saw. She’d be a fool to miss just how good the blonde looked. “I know you were admiring,” Angela continues, this time turning to face Fareeha completely. She takes a few steps closer to her to where they were less than an arms width apart.

 

A hand is placed on her chest and Fareeha’s eyes snap down briefly to look at it, but otherwise she maintains her stoic gaze on the woman before her. She notes that she has quite the height advantage, having to look down just to meet her eyes at their close proximity. Mercy’s forehead was barely at her chin. The height difference does nothing to discourage her, though, as it would seem.

 

“Usually I run a strict look but don't touch, policy.” Her hand on Fareeha's chest moved up the side of her neck, two fingers running across the underside up to her chin. She smiled at the rumble of the annoyed growl in Fareeha's throat, the sound vibrating against her fingers. “But for you, I think I can make an exception.”

 

Fareeha shivered at the words, trying hard not to swallow the lump in her throat for she knew Angela would see it; feel it, and she'd see it as weakness. Somehow she felt like she wasn’t the alpha of this stage like Gabriel wanted her to be. She usually wasn't a fan of appeasing to such blatant teasing, but here was no way she was going to sit back on this one.

 

“Are you this easy in the ring, too? Or am I just that good?”

 

Mercy’s reaction was priceless. The slight widening of her eyes and the way her eyebrows raised, one a little higher than the other. Her mouth opened as if to say something but instead turned into a wide smirk, and she tapped her chin up so Fareeha had to glance through her peripherals to properly see the woman. The crowd was surely making noise and all sorts of other noises were most definitely taking place, but there had been this subtle quietness for Fareeha who was focused only on her opponent before her. And while she hated to admit it, her touch was leaving pleasant tingles on her skin.

 

“Mhmm, so even the puppy has fangs, I see,” Mercy laughs, lightly tapping the side of Fareeha's jaw twice before finally removing her hand from her person. “You're going to be fun, Amari. I’m looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck was that?”

 

“What?”

 

Gabriel was pulling down on the edges of his signature black beanie in frustration as he paced around their hotel room. Fareeha was lounging in the sofa chair in the corner, flipping through the television stations.

 

“I said to assert dominance! Not flirt with the bitch!”

 

A groan. Leave it to Gabriel to find something to be up her ass about. Though she can't deny that there were various flirtatious undertones to their brief confrontation, she was certain it was Ziegler’s own way of messing with her opponents head on weigh in day. Nothing more. “Gabe, it's fine. All of that is for publicity anyway. She was confident on that stage but everything could change once the fight starts.” Honestly, sometimes his nagging was annoying even for her, and she's been putting up with it for years.

 

The man seemed to accept her words for he finally sighed in defeat, fixing his beanie and heading for the door to his own room. “Alright, alright. If you know what you're doing, then fine. But don't forget to rehydrate and get your carbs up for tomorrow.”

 

She gives him a mock salute in reply and he walks out the door shaking his head, mumbling something about disrespectful generations or something. With Gabe finally out of her hair she relaxes in the chair, taking her time to think over everything. She knew he was right. Ziegler dominated the weigh in, which would not only boost her own morale but would also swing that of the crowd in her favor. And it was already in her favor to begin with... Tomorrow's match was of imperative importance. After coming so far there was no way she could let Ziegler beat her.

 

Following Gabriel's advice, Fareeha spent the rest of the day trickling through bottles of water and sports drink as she lounged around her room switching between television and video games. He also had a strict policy to rest the day before, which left her time to chill around her suite. She wasn't afraid of overtraining, but no way was she gonna pass up a free day off. Sometime around the evening she ordered a pasta dish and some breadsticks from room service. Gabe said to stock up on carbs, but he didn't say how she had to get them.

 

She smiled when the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of her meal. She paused her game and stood to answer, thanking the attendant who brought it and passing him a hefty tip as she took her meal back to the couch. She was just about to pick the controller back up when her doorbell rang again, which was odd as she hadn't been expecting anyone else. Unless it was Gabe coming in to check on her again. The thought already had her groaning in annoyance on her way to the door.

 

Now, there was a wide handful of people she would have expected to be standing there when she opened that door, the pope included. So the sight of Angela Ziegler, the woman she was to fight in a little under 24 hours, standing outside her door left her in a minor stupor. She had to blink a couple of times just to make sure she wasn't imagining it.

 

“Fareeha. How good to see you again. May I come in?”

 

The casual use of her first name aside, she couldn't help but feel like she shouldn't let her in, choosing instead to step further into the hallway with the door closed behind her instead. “I'm a little busy right now, Ziegler. Whatever you came for I'm sure we can discuss out here.”

 

“Angela.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“You can call me Angela. This is hardly official work business.”

 

Fareeha looks at the blonde suspiciously, still unsure really what she was doing here. It wasn't often she heard of opponents stopping by to wish her a goodnight. “Uh, sure… Angela.” She noted her smile in response to using her name.

 

“I'll just come on out with it, since I'm sure you're busy.” She briefly pauses. “I've just come to establish that no matter the outcome of tomorrow's match, there won't be any bad blood between us, no?”

 

_“_ I wasn't aware there was even _any_ blood between us…” Her reply is sharp and quick,  metaphorically slicing through Angela’s words. She didn’t mean to be harsh or anything, but she literally doesn't even know the woman.

 

“Do you know how to separate your work from your social life?”

 

Her eyes narrow at the question, unsure of what she meant. But either way, she wanted to get back to her meal and game. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Zie— Angela?”

 

“No, I suppose not,” she replies with a smile. Fareeha could have sworn she saw the tiniest flash of a frown prior, but thinks nothing of it. “Have a goodnight, Fareeha. And I wish you the best in our fight tomorrow.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

She turns back into her room, uncaring whether Mercy had left or not and returned back to her bowl of pasta, no longer nice and warm and now sitting at room temperature. She groans. What exactly was Mercy up to? Why would she come to her room like that? None of it made sense to Fareeha but she tried not to dwell on it, worried it may have been a ploy by her opponent to get her distracted.

 

All she knew is, her fight tomorrow was of great importance. It would help her secure a spot in the world of fighting. It would help her get her name out there. She had to win no matter what.

 

* * *

 

The sound of fast fists against punching bag filled the small room Fareeha was given to use before the fight. She was going through some minor drills just to get her body warmed and her muscles relaxed. Her breathing was steady and even as she moved, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through the mouth. She was focused on nothing more than her fists and the punching bag in front of her. So focused that she hadn't even heard the door open behind her.

 

“Yo, kid.”

 

She does hear the voice calling out to her and ceases her movements, wiping some sweat from her forehead with the back of a gloved hand. “Gabe.” He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his sweats. She knows he’s feeling the anxiety too.

 

“How you feeling about tonight,” he asks as he straddles a nearby folding chair, resting his arms across the backrest.

 

“I'm feeling pretty good. I watched the videos you sent me.” Later last night he had sent her a few of Mercy’s best matches so she can get a feel for what to expect.

 

“Good. So you know she's quick on her feet. Run me a breakdown of your game plan.”

 

Fareeha smirks. Her mentor always liked to test her like this. “Well her K.O.’s have been primarily with some kind of kick to the head so I'd like to assume she has a strong kickboxing background. I'm gonna start the match with an aggressive offense, try to close the gap between us to render her kicks useless. I didn't see her do much grappling, but I'd rather not take it to the floor just in case.”

 

“Good, good. Don't get too close though. Just keep her within your reach. You have the height advantage too, so don't fuck this up.”

 

She nods the affirmative, thinking back to the videos she watched of Mercy’s prior fights. She was quick and elusive, utilizing kicks and knees more than her punches. What she had seen of the punches she did throw weren’t too impressive either. Fareeha was hoping she'd be able to pin that down as a weakness and finish the fight quickly with some swift punches of her own. It would be more ideal to get her into a grapple but she didn't know the extent of Mercy’s grappling abilities and knew for sure that hers were subpar at best. She didn't want to take any chances there.

 

Tonight she was going to win.

 

The time moves quickly, and before she knows it she's standing in the middle of the circular shaped cage, the cheering of the crowd louder than any crowd she's ever fought for.

 

She made it. She’s officially in a professional fight.

 

Immediately she could see the difference between fighting in the pro league and the ametuer league. This match was going to be broadcasted on television all over the world. It was just that big. Fareeha felt blessed to be able to stand in the ring in that moment, resting her face against her hands held together in a prayer formation.

 

She pushes a stray strand of hair that fell out of her short ponytail behind her ear as she eyed the grey circle with the gold highlight that was the OVW logo on the floor of the cage. This was her first fight in the Overwatch Fighting League, typically known as just Overwatch. A win here would enter her to fight through the ranks of Overwatch for the championship title, her only goal to prove herself.

 

The roaring of the crowd signaled Mercy’s arrival. Fareeha sighed, closing her eyes momentarily to mentally ready herself. She looked across at the large screen displaying her and Mercy’s picture, then back to where Gabriel was standing with his arms crossed against his chest. He nods to her and she knows that's him telling her she better win. She had no intention of doing otherwise.

 

Her opponent enters the cage in her matching white and red garments and Fareeha catches herself before she gets caught staring a second time. Now definitely wasn't the time to oggle. Her blonde hair is tied into a high ponytail, her signature bangs still hang over the sides of her face. What she did glance of the other woman was that she didn't look like she bulked up much since the weigh in. Fareeha was certain this match was well in her favor.

 

The match was about to start and the two fighters meet each other in the middle of the ring to touch gloves. Angela holds the touch a little longer than needed, looking up into Fareeha's determined gaze. “I won't go easy on you, Amari.”

 

“I wouldn't want you to.”

 

A small chuckle as the blonde turned to walk away, “I wonder how long before I have you screaming mercy,” she taunts. Fareeha doesn't bother with the retort, moving back to her own side across from the referee. She wasn't going to let Ziegler’s taunting mess with her head.

 

Her arms were up as she took her stance, Mercy doing the same. She noted that she held her arms low, even with her height disadvantage.

 

The referee calls the start of the fight, a horn sounding off in the distance. Fareeha knows she needs to end it quick. Mercy is a patient fighter. The longer you draw out the fight the worst it'll be for you in the long run.

 

She closes the distance between them easier than she expected, coming in with a strong right handed punch that her opponent easily dodges before stepping back in retreat. Fareeha's eyes were watching her feet and expected the movement, easily closing the gap again for another barrage of attacks. Mercy just manages to lean back out of her reach and retaliates with a swift kick to her side before backing off again.

 

The crowd roars in the distance at her managing the first hit, but Fareeha pays her nor them any mind. Ziegler was still on the defensive as they circled each other, and every attempt Fareeha made at landing a hit failed. She was a lot more elusive than she had thought. Deciding to feint exhaustion Fareeha went into a defensive pose, keeping her arms in the best position to block Mercy’s kicks hoping she'd take the bait. When the blonde began to close the distance she knew her plan had worked. However, she was in no way prepared for the barrage of fast and powerful kicks the smaller woman was dishing out to her hips and upper thighs. She ended up taking a barrage of hits, struggling to block them outright since they were pretty low. They weren’t weak kicks either, so she was really feeling the sting of each hit.

 

She was certain she heard Gabe yelling some sort of order in the background, but couldn't pay enough attention to acknowledge it. She manages to catch the next kick to her side, holding on to the woman's ankle in attempt to pull her off balance.

 

The other woman's smirk was the only thing that signaled her of her mistake. She thought a kick was coming from her other leg as she leaped up but instead found the woman's arms wrapped around her head as she leaped toward her with a knee to her abdomen. With her leg free she swung that one up for a second knee to the now sore spot.

 

The crowd was in an uproar at the retaliation as Mercy held Fareeha's head in an arm lock, bending her down to a lower height as she rained punches into her side. Fareeha took the punches as she decided what her next move should be. She could trip the woman into a grapple, but her lack of knowledge on her grappling skills made her weary against doing so. In the meantime she found herself pounding onto the woman's back in hopes of getting her to let up. She was too close to her for a good knee.

 

Running out of options, Fareeha wraps an arm around her in an attempt to throw her off, lifting her from the ground and throwing her slamming her down onto her back so now she was on top. She followed up with a few punches to the face which she blocked mostly before getting off of her and back to her feet, once again creating distance across from them as she caught her breath. It was then that the horn signaling the end of the first round sounded off.

 

Fareeha sighs in relief as she makes her way Gabe who hands her some water from the top of the fence.

 

“That was good. You made a good call by getting off the ground. With leg strength like that she could've easily caught you in a leg lock. But this round you gotta get a good hit in. All you need is one. And DON’T catch her kicks.”

 

Fareeha groans at all of his babbling as she heads back to the middle to touch gloves once more. She expected some kind of slick remark from the blonde but was actually surprised at her silence. It was actually a little unsettling how serious she seemed compared to her playful demeanor earlier. She was too absorbed into the fight to be playful now.

 

The next round begins and surprisingly to Fareeha Mercy closes the distance this time right off the bat with a flying roundhouse kick that barely misses her face. She felt the wind pressure against her face from just how fast and powerful it was. If she got hit by one of those she'd be done for.

 

The assault didn't end there as Mercy lunged in with a forward kick that sends Fareeha against the cage walls. She manages to push off to avoid the next kick, using her momentum to swing a right hook that connects square with the side of Mercys face. The blonde stumbles against the fenced walls from the impact, blood already trickling from her nose and the busted lip she now sported. The once noisy crowd became silent at the impact, Mercy’s “no blood run” ended at the hands of Fareeha. It was a running thing she had going on where an opponent had yet to cause her to bleed in all of the fights she’s fought.  A part of her felt pretty prideful at the idea that she was the one to draw first blood from such a strong fighter.  

 

She made out to finish the match here and there, switching her momentum to her left side— her dominant side— as she prepared the finishing blow. And just as quickly as it began it was over. Fareeha’s face was in shock at the sudden impact to the side of her jaw that hit her with the strength of a speeding train and sent her entire body spiraling backwards.

 

_What?_

 

The red gloves her opponent wore and the angry scowl on her face was the last thing she saw before the bright lights from above as she succumbed to darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

She awakes an unknown passage of time later to find herself laying sprawled out on her hotel bed. It was dark so it must’ve still been late. Her face was sunk into the pile of pillows on her bed and she groaned at the wet spot against her face. The soft cushioning of the comforter under her— because apparently she didn't bother putting it over herself— felt like the softest of clouds against her skin. It was then she realized she was still in her fighting clothes minus the gloves. She flipped over onto her back and immediately regretted it.

 

The moment she turned over she felt the intense ringing in her ears followed by a harsh pounding in her head, and it was then she acknowledged just how much her body _fucking_ hurt. Her head felt like someone was hammering her skull. Her jaw felt like it could fall off. She didn’t even want to think about the painful bruises she could feel all over the rest of her body as she sat up to rest on her elbows.

 

_What the hell happened?_

 

Painfully, Fareeha rolled out of bed. She was a bit unsteady on her feet at first and the motion brought on an extreme wave of nausea. If there was a single word she could use to describe how she felt, it would be shit. She felt like shit.

 

Her venture out into the main room found Gabriel lying half on the couch half off, his mouth wide open with the occasional snore sounding out. She wasn’t going to find much help in him… A loud rumbling mingles in with the sound of his next snore and her hand rests on her stomach. She felt famished. Hopefully room service was still a thing this late at night. The thought of room service sparked a memory inside of her and her eyes snapped open once she remembered her fight against Mercy. A hand reached up to rub her pained jaw in panic.

 

_No, really. What the hell happened?_

 

She found that she couldn’t remember anything about the fight. Despite the pain in her body she rushed back to her room and pulled out her laptop, searching up a recording of the fight. She had to know what happened. The video was only available to buy so she sucked it up and paid the outrageous price. She lay back in bed with the laptop rested on her stomach as she waited for it to download. Hotel internet was such trash.

 

In the meantime she decided make the mistake of looking into a mirror. The side of her face was a little swollen and was sporting an unnatural bluish black shade down to her jaw. An inspection of her sides showed the same marks. Clearly she took a beating, but she was hoping it was worth it.

 

With the video loaded up she sat down to watch, staring intently at the screen as it began to play Fareeha felt it odd that she couldn’t remember anything about what she was watching. She smiles when she watches herself connect a strong blow to the blonde’s face, leaning in closer to the laptop screen in anticipation as she expected herself to finish it up with a left. A relief fills her at the sight of her ensured victory, however, it never comes and the fight ends with herself sprawled out on the ground unconscious.

 

“What?”

 

She watches the slow-mo replay, mouth agape as Mercy, slumped against the cage walls, kicks her foot out against her chest to stop her momentum and spins out of the way to hit right in the sweet spot of her jaw with a backhanded punch for the K.O. In disbelief she watched the scene over and over again. She couldn't believe it. Angela Ziegler beat her with a spinning back fist. She lost.

 

Fareeha feels the prickling sensation that was tears beginning to open the floodgates, but willed them closed. She lost, but that didn't mean she had to cry over it.

 

“Well, fuck,” she sighs, laying back in bed to stare up at the ceiling.

 

She doesn't know how long she lay like that, unmoving and unthinking. But she knows that when she does end up drifting back to sleep the last thing she sees is the face of Angela Ziegler standing over her, bloody nose and all, staring down at her with a wink.

 

Fucking Ziegler.

**Author's Note:**

> Fighter Angela? Yes, pls. Also, I just wanna practice writing fight scenes.


End file.
